The Narrator
by That-Flying-Breadstick-Wizard
Summary: i don't even know what this is i'm sorry
**The Narrator**

 _ **Yeah, this is weird, sorry, I just... I don't even know, man. I was watching Jack (jacksepticeye) play the Stanley Parable and then it struck me that the Narrator reminded me of a slightly more sadistic Cecil? I don't know, I just sort of typed this. I don't like dark fics usually, so I just made it like this and it's terrible, but oh well.**_

 _ **It's come to my attention I haven't been doing disclaimers, so, uh, sorry? I'm too lazy to go back and change anything I've already posted, but I'll just say I don't own Welcome to Night Vale or the Stanley Parable, I guess. Yet. Probably.**_

 _ **What is ownership, anyway? Does anyone own anything at all? I think not. You do not even own that sack of flesh, blood, and fragile sticks that you call bones. It is not yours. Don't be selfish. Share your meat-sack. Some people aren't lucky enough to have physical forms or food always on hand like you. I know people who would kill (have killed) to have such a delicious and edible body that is mobile like you do. For shame, reader. For shame.**_

Carlos is an ordinary scientist. Every day, he comes to work, and he does Stex-approved, productive science. He measures things, observes things, and nods while making humming noises.

But one day, he was sitting alone in his lab, when he realized he hadn't seen any of his coworkers in hours. Even his cheerful, creepy boss Kevin hasn't popped in to check in and say _hi_ while staring with that creepy, fanged grin of his. He had received no new things to test and quantify, no questions to answer.

Then, a deep, sonorous voice begins to narrate everything he does, all the while shamelessly admitting it's- his- love for Carlos and his "perfect" hair.

Carlos has to ask questions about the job he has always had, and why this Narrator- who still hasn't said his name and can't seem to actually hear him, even though he can see him apparently- is narrating everything he does, telling him where to go. And he also really hates the Broom Closet (apparently Employee 430, Steve Carlsberg is the only person who would ever be despicable enough to enjoy sitting in the Broom Closet).

When he doesn't do what the Narrator says, he gets frustrated, saying he's trying to help so would Carlos _please_ go back.

Whenever Carlos dies, he somehow finds himself back in his lab, the Narrator usually speaking with seemingly no memory of whatever had occurred.

One time, he specifically does the opposite of everything he says- she introduces herself as Lauren- cuts off the Narrator and tells him that he 's doing a great job, that he should keep going, but there's something dark in her voice so he turns back and she gets angrier and angrier-

He wakes up back in his lab, the Narrator sounding concerned, calling his name with a lilt of fear in his voice and it's nice, knowing someone cares that Carlos is alive.

When he enters the Executive Bathroom, there's a floating cat (which the Narrator spends a good five minutes squealing over) and eventually he finds out the horrible truth about his bosses, StrexCorp, and the mind-control machines they've been using on everyone.

His memories niggled at him, there was something more to this. Why couldn't he remember before his job? Why couldn't he remember his life? Family? Friends? He remembered kind eyes, some sort of strange color... Violet. Freckles. A smile.

But who would that be?

When he finally reaches those last two buttons- OFF and ON, the Narrator urging him to free all those who are still trapped, and Carlos slams down the OFF button and the great door opens to the outside world, the blinding light crawling in, but Carlos wonders what about the Narrator?

But his feet move without his permission, he's leaving the Narrator telling him to go, to be free, for he has saved everyone else, and the door creaks shut behind him, and his voice is getting fainter and there's something so sad about his goodbye, and Carlos knows what he has to do. He can't leave the person who got him through all of this, even if he has been strange and at times frightening, scaring Carlos with his strange fascination with him or his complete nonchalantness- or even ominous sadism -of narrating all the horrible things that happened in various do-overs. The way he sometimes literally treated this all like a game. The way he randomly proclaimed his absolute love for Carlos which didn't make _sense_ because Carlos didn't even know this man (was the Narrator a man? Human at all?) and how could he just...

When he had messed up whatever reality he was in and there had been that strange yellow line and it had seemed the Narrator was controlling everything like some demented puppetmaster... But then he got so confused and frustrated when it lead him to the monitor room, and then he had been so eager and happy at the prospect of a whole new adventure, and the doors, and he'd began losing memory and he was just as much a pawn as Carlos. There was when he had messed with all the computers that "awaited imput" and he had been brought to "Heaven," the sky had been purple, there had been _science_ and those violet eyes, but there had been the Narrator's voice, too, not narrating but just talking. Chattering about every day things, and strange things, like an old woman named Josie and a farmer named John Peters (You know, the famer?) and why was he here? But nothing happened, and Carlos knew this "Heaven" was fake, so he closed his eyes and once again he was in his lab. But then, when he had been convinced he was going crazy, and the once soothing voice had encouraged it, turning higher pitched and cruel and cheerful, like his old boss, Kevin- actually, a lot like Kevin, maybe he should try looking into that- but he couldn't leave anyone behind. He was certain the Narrator was being kept somewhere. It was silly, really. For all he knew it could all in his head. What about that person, with the freckled smile and the violet eyes? But some part of him insisted he had to save the owner of that voice.

So as he walked under the blue sky, grass waving gently around him, he knew what he had to do.

He woke up in his lab the Narrator chattering away, oblivious to the risk Carlos had just taken.

He searched and searched, restarting over and over, until one day, one of the doors was open that had never been open before.

Even the Narrator seemed confused, when Carlos approached it he anxiously told Carlos he wasn't sure if that was a good idea, maybe he should get back on track so he could escape, free everyone.

But Carlos could feel that this was what he had been looking for. He wasn't sure how long he had been looking, and the Narrator definitely had no idea how many times Carlos had done this, and Carlos wasn't sure why he was doing this, why he would risk everything and stay here when he could leave for a Narrator who hadn't even always been kind, but something, something niggling at him like his memories, like those blue eyes, was saying he had to.

He opened the door all the way, stepping through.

He heard shuffling papers, the Narrator clearing his throat and saying he wasn't sure where Carlos was going, he was flying blind, and wouldn't he please go save himself?

But Carlos kept going, turning several corners, passing many potted plants (some fake) even a fern (which the Narrator claimed looked extremely important and Carlos should never, ever forget it) and eventually, there was a door. Unmarked.

A filing cabinet, thrown open with papers hanging out of it, was on it's side next to it.

He approached, the Narrator chattering anxiously, and he put his hand on the doorknob and the Narrator's voice seemed louder now, and he opened it and there was a man.

He hadn't seen anyone in person so long, he wanted to collapse, but the man turned, eyes wide with surprise. He was holding a microphone, he had headphones on, and he had freckles and a wide, violet eyes.

"Carlos?" the man asked, looking shocked and pleased and horrified all at once.

One arm came up as if to touch him, but drew back.

It was pale, tattoos of purple tentacles and eyes and swirling patterns dancing across his skin, a single, shiny cuff attaching him to a chain that linked to the desk, which was part of the floor.

"Carlos, what are you doing here?" the man asked, and it was the Narrator's voice, and suddenly Carlos could _remember._

The Narrator was giving him a worried look. "You need to go, before they come back, you're not supposed to be here, you need to escape-" he said, but Carlos remembered now and there was no way in hell he was leaving him behind.

"Cecil," he said, because now he could remember his name, remember the night beneath the desert sky and stars, remember the shy smiles and how bold Cecil had always been, remember the lights in the sky about a red sign, remember a tiny city under a bowling alley, remember their first dates and his stuttering and the "Tests" on trees. "Cecil," he said again, just to hear it.

Cecil's expression was strange, and suddenly he seemed to light up, because Carlos wasn't the only one who had been messed with, that much was obvious, and now Cecil remembered too.

But then the door slammed open again, and there was Kevin- he looked so much like Cecil but he was grinning, wide and insane, far too gone to save.

He attacked and Carlos wasn't a fighter but he tried, Cecil was chained to the desk, powerless but struggling, when there is _bang_ and Kevin crumples, and there's Employee 417- no, Dana-holding a filing cabinet drawer aloft and grinning and they leave together.

Dana somehow gets Cecil out of his cuffs and they kiss, eager and happy and relieved- and from there the three leave, Cecil chattering the whole way, and apparently Employee 423- Sorry, Tamika- had turned off the machine and they leave, they walk back, not into grass and blue sky, because that had been a lie, but into crooked streets and a purple sky, angels that don't exist and glowing clouds.

They go home.

It's like they've never been gone, like just the weather has passed and they're back and safe again.

And maybe it's just that simple. They've stopped StrexCorp for now, and that's enough. Cecil is safe, and so is Carlos, and that's enough. It's like all of those restarts, all of that pain and uncertainty, means nothing now, because for now, it's all okay. There is no mysterious, threatening Narrator, just his sweet boyfriend. There is no gaping hole in his memories. There are no terrifying restarts or adventure lines. Just Night Vale. Just Cecil.

And Carlos... was happy.

 **What do you think? Too weird?**

 **Nah. This is WTNV and the Stanley Parable, there is no "Too weird," is there?**

 **Either way, was it awful? You don't have to notice. Words are precious. Do not waste them on me or my silly story. Do not waste them on such trivial things. Hold them close in your fragile lungs and hope no one pries them from your so easily broken ribcage. Breathe in, and do not exhale your words, for you have so few left.**

 **...I'm sorry, I've been listening to WTNV a lot recently and that keeps happening. I'll stop. Sorry.**


End file.
